Late for Lunch

Scott had made lists, revised them, ripped them up, started over. And over again. He had cleaned his apartment more thoroughly than ever before in the three years he had lived there. He had checked out events -- concerts, movies, plays, exhibits scheduled for that weekend.

Fred was coming to town, and he wanted it to be a memorable time for both of them.

Scott and Fred had been the closest of friends in college. Confidants, tutors, shrinks, partners in crime. They knew everything there was to know about each other, what they liked and did not like in food, clothing, art, literature, music, politics, religion, sex. (They both liked pretty much everything in sex.)

But they had graduated on the cusp of the Great Recession. And split up. Scott went east, Fred went west. They both struggled at first, finding and keeping jobs, making new friends, finding new lovers. They wrote long, deeply personal letters. Then fell back on shorter, more superficial emails, followed by less personal texts -- I saw a movie I think you'd like. I ran into an old college classmate last week; he's going bald. Got a promotion ... but not a raise.

They fared well in the recovery of the teens, survived the pandemic -- physically, emotionally and professionally. But they had not seen each other in fifteen years.

Fred had business in the city and would fly in early Saturday morning to spend time with Scott through Sunday. They should start by meeting for lunch on Saturday, Fred suggested, and plot strategy from there.

Scott had some ideas, loads of ideas, to present when they met. He picked out a restaurant and agreed to meet at noon. He was compulsively punctual, hadn't been late for anything since arriving kicking and screaming the morning after his due date.

Scott paced on the sidewalk outside the eatery. It was not a fancy place. It was the kind of restaurant he and Fred had favored while in school: good food, good service at reasonable prices. Up and down he walked, checking his watch every forty-five seconds or so. Finally, he convinced himself to stop, take a deep breath and meditate off into space for a few minutes.

He was brought back to earth by a tap on the shoulder and a voice from behind: "Excuse me, sir."

He turned. A woman his age gazed up at him, a solicitous look on her face. "Hi, uh, hello, sir," she stammered. "I wonder if I could ask you a question. Well, actually, I'd like to ask a favor."

Scott was the friendly sort, not one to turn away a person, especially a pretty woman, in need. "Well, I'm waiting for someone who should be here any minute, but, if I can do something for you, I'd be happy to oblige."

"Oh, goodie. I just knew you looked like the kind of man who would aid a damsel in distress."

Scott nodded, unsure about how much aid he was willing to give when approached on the street like this, but willing to listen. After a pause, "So, what can I do for you?"

"Ah, yes, the favor," she said. "It's just this: I wonder if you would fuck me."

He stared down at the woman for several beats. He'd had long-term lovers, had actually been married to one for almost five years. He'd had quickies to cap off a night out drinking, enjoyed a handful of orgies. But this was something new.

The woman pressed her case. "I'm an attractive woman, don't you think?"

He nodded agreement. She was indeed attractive. About five feet six inches. Long black hair, large dark eyes, smooth skin. From where he stood, looking down at her, she had a body with all the curves in the right places.

"So, I think you'd really enjoy fucking me," she said. She smiled sweetly, batted her eyelashes like a classic movie heroine.

"Uh, really now," Scott said, "this is rather unusual. Are we being watched, filmed? Are you a cop?"

She laughed. "No, none of that. Actually, I'm a housewife, mother of three little brats. My husband works all day, drinks with his buddies all night. I think he's fucking a secretary and a waitress or two, but he's not banging me anymore at all. That's my distress. I'm horny as hell."

Scott checked his watch, looked up and down the street. "Well, it's certainly an enticing offer. But, as I said, I'm waiting for a friend. Supposed to be here by now. And, also, I mean, here we are on a busy public street. What am I supposed to do, lean you over the hood off a parked car and nail you from behind?"

"That would be exciting," the woman said with an endearing giggle. "Maybe we could come back later, after dark, midnight or so, and we could do that then." She glanced around. "But for now, I see a dress shop across the street. We could go in there, pretend to be a couple looking for a new dress for me, for a party, say. I'll pick out two or three to try on. I'll have some trouble in the dressing room that only you can handle, call you in and we can fuck in there."

"You are a woman with all the answers," Scott said, laughing and shaking his head in admiration. "But my friend ..."

"Fuck your friend," the woman interrupted. Then she grinned lasciviously. "And that's an idea. Does your friend like threesomes? If he shows up in the next minute or so, we could take him with us and you both could fuck me."

Scott fought off thoughts of such an event transpiring in the shop's dressing room. "Listen, you're attractive, yes, hot even. But I promised my friend I'd be here waiting."

"Come," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out into the street. "You'll be just across the way. And tell you what: If you agree to fuck me, I'll suck your cock too."

They dodged a bicyclist, a taxi and a delivery van. As they approached the store, Scott yanked her to a stop. "We should know each other's names. I'm Scott. What should I call you?"

"What do you want to call me?" she teased.

He shook his head. The woman was a true piece of work. "Well, Jezebel seems appropriate, under the circumstances."

"Then Jezebel it is. You may call me Jez. I'll call you Honey and Dear." She stepped aside to let Honey and Dear open the door to the store.

They were greeted by a middle-age woman with a pasted-on smile. "Hello, folks, I'm Theresa. This is my little shop. How may I be of service to you today?"

"Oh, Theresa, it's so nice to meet you," Jezebel cooed. "We just loved the look of your establishment, and I told my husband here that we simply had to come in to check out your fine merchandise. You see, we've been invited to a party. It's nothing formal, so I don't need a gown or anything. But it's at my hubbie's boss's house. My man here is up for a big promotion, so I want to wear something nice to this affair." She winked at Theresa. "Maybe show a bit a cleavage and a spot of leg, too."

Theresa didn't break the plastic of her smile. "I'm sure we have just the thing for you. May I show you some ideas?"

Jezebel placed her hand lightly on Theresa's arm, drawing a wary look on the shopkeeper's face. "Oh, thank you, Tess. May I call you Tess? But we'll just look around. I presume you have a dressing room where I could try on some possibilities?"

"Indeed," Theresa said, pulling away from Jezebel's grasp to point to a door toward the rear of the store. "Right through there you'll find a well-appointed room. I'll be around, of course, so just call if you need me."

Jezebel and Scott toured the store. She picked out three dresses in bold colors -- red, blue and yellow -- all with plunging necklines and tempting, mid-thigh hems.

As Jezebel headed for the dressing room, Theresa inquired, "Will you be needing any help?"

"Oh, thank you so much," Jezebel said. "I sometimes have trouble with zippers and buttons and such when I'm trying a new thing on. But that's why I drag my dear man along. He can help me if needed. No need to bother you."

She scurried into a short hallway and then ducked into a dressing room opposite a restroom. Scott smiled at Theresa, who nodded at him with that permanent smile. He wondered if her cheeks ached when she closed up shop at night.

"Truly, that's my role in life," he said. "My lovely wife depends on me for even the smallest things sometimes. But I love her so much that I don't mind at all. It's an honor and a pleasure just to be around her. She is lovely, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, sir. You have a marvelous wife. You are very lucky."

"I am, indeed. Yes, indeed."

He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, pretending to look over dresses, blouses, skirts. He checked his watch, stood by the front window and surveyed the street. "We're supposed to meet friends for lunch," he explained to Theresa. "They're late, of course. Always have been, always will be. That's why we figured we had time to come in here and shop for a dress."

Theresa nodded in understanding.

Finally, the call came. "Oh, Honey. Dear, could you come here, please? I seem to have gotten this gosh darn zipper stuck."

Scott smiled at Theresa. "Never fails. Lovely, but a bit of a klutz."

He sauntered to the dressing room, making sure that Theresa knew he was in no rush to reach his lovely, fumbling wife. He opened the door, slipped inside, closed it and turned around. Jezebel stood with hands on hips, her legs slightly spread, huge grin on her face, wearing only her black bra and panties.

"Like what you see? Wanna fuck me now?"

He shrugged his shoulders, appraised her up and down as he approached her. "I already told you, Jez, you're an attractive woman. Very attractive. Sexy, actually."

"So you do really want to fuck me now?"

"Well, yes, of course." He checked his watch again. "But, as I've told you over and over again, I'm supposed to meet a friend across ..."

"And I already told you, fuck your friend. Now come her and take off this silly bra. Come play with my tits."

He shook his head in resignation. He was here, in this room with a nearly naked woman. He couldn't deny the stiffy in his pants. He might as well proceed. He reached around her, unhooked the bra and pulled the straps down off her shoulders. He drew it slowly away from her breasts and tossed it onto a chair where she'd deposited the rest of her clothes.

Jezebel had very nice tits. They were round and firm, stood high and proud on her chest. Her nipples were large and brown and started to pucker up as he ran his finger lightly over them.

"A guy I once knew, one of my fuck buddies back when I was single, said I had Goldilocks tits. You know, not too big, not too small. Just right. What do you think?"

Scott bounced her boobs gently in his palms. He circled them with his fingers, gently pinched her hard nipples. "Yep, just right."

"Suck 'em," she said, thrusting them out to him.

Scott bent his head to Jezebel's chest. He licked around her areolas, nuzzled his nose between her mounds, tenderly locked his lips to the nipples. She pulled his head tight to her, ran her fingers through his hair.

"Yes," she cooed. "That feels so fucking good. It's been absolute ages since any handsome man sucked my titties like that."

He swiveled back and forth -- left tit, right tit. Stopped several times to kiss and lick her cleavage as she pushed her breasts tight to his cheeks.

"Now take my panties off. I hope you'll like my pussy. Do you like pubic hair? I keep mine pretty well trimmed."

He did, indeed, like pubic hair. He preferred vintage porn to modern porn largely for that reason. The bare, childlike crotches of current porn stars didn't turn him on like the well-maintained bushes of yesteryear.

But first, naturally, he checked his watch again.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Jezebel hissed. "Stop that. You're here, now, with me, not with this so-called, imaginary friend of yours. Here, come up and kiss me."

She hoisted him up, smacked him long and hard on the mouth.

"Now, drop down, rip my panties off and kiss those lips down there just like that."

Scott fell to his knees. He wedged his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly eased them over his hips and down her legs. She stepped out of them and kicked then aside.

Her pussy was everything she promised it would be. Enough hair to let him know he was fucking a real woman, not so much that he'd be picking curlies from between his teeth for the next week. Her thighs were equally enticing, so he licked up and down, teasing her cunt lips with quick swipes of his nose, lips and tongue.

Jezebel couldn't take any more of that. She clutched the back of his head, rammed his face to her crotch. He jammed his tongue into her slit. She shivered violently. He swiped his tongue up and down between her labia, flicked it over her swollen clit. She eased the hold on his head, pushed her pelvis forward, taking his tongue back inside her.

He tasted a stream of sweet cunt juice flowing into his mouth. He collected it on his tongue, swirled it around, savoring the flavor, the consistency. He gulped it down and parted his lips for more. She pressed her thighs against his head, clasping him in a vise of sexual delight. He picked up the pace, tongued her frenetically until she quaked with orgasm.

"Oh, fucking Christ," Jezebel moaned. "That's fucking heaven. You're a god, my good man. My Honey, my Dear. You're the god of sex."

Scott kissed up her pelvis, over her belly, up and around her tits, to her neck. He kissed her on the mouth. She licked her pussy juice from his lips.

"It's probably too late for me to meet my friend now, so ..."

"So," she said, "I should get on with sucking your cock."

She quickly loosened his pants and tugged them and his boxers down and off his legs. She yanked off his shoes while he ripped his polo shirt over his head.

"Come." She took his hand, swiped her clothes off the chair and pushed him down on it. She parted his legs and fell between them. She nibbled his belly, his thighs. She stroked his hard dick, softly caressed his balls. She brought her lips to the tip of his dick, licked up some precum and then lowered herself onto it.

Scott felt the head of his cock slip easily into the opening of her throat. Her nose pierced his abdomen. Her chin bounced against his balls. She slowly bobbed up and down on his rod, taking him deep, easing him out so that just the tip remained between her lips. She licked his hole, took him deep again and again and again.

"Oh, fuck, that is so good, Jez. You are a colossal cocksucker."

She pulled up from him momentarily. "One of my many specialties. One that fucking, two-timing husband of mine is missing out on." She gave the crown of his cock a big smack. "But one I'm loving giving you right now."

Jezebel sucked him nearly to climax, backed off, let him recover, then sucked him to even loftier heights. He lay back on the chair, exhilarating with every move she made on his dick. His divorce had left him wondering if he'd ever be wanted again. If he could ever satisfy and be satisfied by another woman. He'd had some short flings, some one-night stands. He'd been given a handjob in a dark theater, a blowjob outside a bar. Fleeting moments of pleasure.

Now, he had his hard cock in a desirable woman's mouth. A woman who had boldly proclaimed her desire to have him fuck her. Perhaps this could turn into something greater than a strange encounter. Just the thought of this rebound, this -- what? -- second coming of age almost made him come.

He grabbed Jezebel by the arms, pulled her up onto his lap. She reached between them, held his cock up and lowered her wet pussy over it. He held her tight. She pressed against him, wrapped her arms around his neck. He thrust up into her, she slammed down to greet him.

She cried out, "Oh, god, yes. Fuck me, Honey Dear, fuck the ever-loving shit out of me."

He clasped a hand over her mouth. "Shh," he whispered. "That bitch out front will hear you and figure out what's going on."

She gently bit his hand. "Let her. Maybe she'll want to come in here and fuck you too. After you fuck me, of course."

He lifted her up. She fit comfortably in his arms, her arms draped around his neck, her lips pressed to his cheek. He stood her up, turned her around and bent her over. She spread her legs. As he wedged his dick into her cunt from behind, his fear was realized.

A loud knock on the door. "Hello. Hello, in there. Is everything all right? You've been a while. Do you need some assistance?"

"No, Theresa. Thank you very much," he called over his shoulder, not halting his deliberate back and forth slide in and out of Jezebel's pussy. "My wife simply can't decide. All these dresses are so nice. And she looks so nice in them. But I'll hurry her up. As far as I'm concerned, one is as good as another."

"Okay, then. But if there's anything I can do ..."

"You're very kind, Tess," Jezebel said between heavy breaths. "I'm just trying to decide on the best fit inside me. I mean on me."

"Hmm," the shopkeeper said. "If you say so."

Scott picked up the pace. At first he feared that Theresa would hear the slaps of his pelvis against Jezebel's ass. Then he didn't care. He really, really did need to fuck this woman.

She moaned with joy. She reached beneath them and cradled his bouncing balls in her palm. He drilled her harder and harder. He leaned over, reached around and cupped her tits in his hands. They moved in perfect rhythm. Long, deep thrusts into her cunt. Kisses on her back and neck. Fingers pinching her sensitive nipples.

Scott felt her shiver and shake again. He pounded harder and faster into her. She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle another moan of euphoria. His balls tightened. His whole body strained under the build-up in his crotch, the joyful ache in his cock before he released spurt after spurt after spurt of cum into Jezebel's pussy.

He held her close until their heavy breathing subsided. She turned her head, smiled up at him. He gave her tits a last, playful squeeze and stood up, stepped away from her. Jezebel swung around, fell to her knees, took his cock in her mouth again and sucked the cum and cunt juice off it.

Jezebel clutched his ass. She rocked back and forth, sliding her lips along his still-hard shaft. He closed his eyes, let the feeling of her lips on his cock spread through his body. He'd always been quick to recover for a second round. He felt it gathering momentum. He moaned in delight.

She released his hold on him. "Your cum tastes good," she said, gazing up at him with gleaming eyes. "Give me some more."

He grabbed the back of her head and began pumping wildly into her mouth. She bobbed back and forth with fervor, accentuating his thrusts. He shuddered as he let loose a blast of jism into her mouth. She gulped it down and continued sucking him until his well was dry and his cock began to flag.

They dressed in a hurry. When they exited the dressing room, though, they met a scowling proprietor.

"You two," Theresa hissed. "You two are disgraceful. I know what you were doing in there. The nerve of it. To come in here, my respectful establishment, and have carnal relations practically before my eyes. Why, I should call the police and have you arrested."

Jezebel smiled. "And here I was about to buy this pretty dress from you," she said, holding up the blue one.

"I don't want your business. I don't want your money. I don't want you here. Get out. Get out. Both of you. Or I will call the cops."

Jezebel calmly returned the dresses to the rack. She smiled again at Theresa. "Come on, Honey, let's go. We're not wanted here."

As Scott opened the door for her, Jez turned and spit out to the shopkeeper, "I just want you to know that we've been kicked out of far better places than this."

They let the door slam closed behind them. She grabbed his hand again as they scampered across the street. When they reached the opposite side, they faced each other and laughed uncontrollably. She threw her arounds around him. He pulled her close. They kissed passionately. He slapped her on the ass.